Kimmie Dog
Growing up, everything and everyone had a purpose which contributed to the family’s survival. Parents both worked, kids had chores, and even dogs had a specific purpose which was generally explained by the adjective before their name – rabbit hound, bird dog, coon hound, squirrel dog, and cow dog. These rules applied to everyone and every beast equally except for my cousin Joy. For some inexplicable reason, Joy could chose any dog she wanted regardless of it’s usefulness, and she generally chose a dog toward the more useless side. And so it was with her dog, Kimmie. A veritable ball of fur with no real purpose in life but to run and eat. We later learned that Kimmie was a Keeshond, which is a Dutch version of a Huskie or a German Spitz. Dad initially disdained Kimmie and gave her the nickname of “Sooner” because “that dog would sooner eat than do anything useful”.
As circumstances changed, Joy could no longer keep Kimmie at her house and asked my Mom and her Aunt if they would temporarily keep Kimmie in their dog kennel. Joy knew better than to ask her Uncle Don if he would provide room and board for an animal as useless as Kimmie. As time passed, temporary became permanent and Dad became determined to make something useful out of Kimmie.
The challenge was almost insurmountable. Kimmie was a virtual ball of energy; if she got loose on the farm, she would run from one ridge down across the County Road and creek and up to the top of the opposite ridge, then back again and again without so much as stopping. She would make six or eight trips from ridge to ridge as Dad walked the quarter mile to the bridge below their house and back.
But, Dad was determined. He started the training process by placing a lasso around Kimmie neck and holding on for dear life. Kimmie would pull so hard that Dad could barely keep from being jerked down and would sometimes snub the rope around a tree like a cowboy with a bronco. Mom was concerned that the rope would cut off Kimmie’s windpipe and kill her. Dad said, “it won’t choke her if she will stop pulling!” And so, the battle of wills proceeded. Eventually, Kimmie appeared to relent and would sit patiently in the dog kennel as Dad placed the lasso around her neck for the walks to the bridge and back. Dad was convinced he had trained Kimmie to heel. If dogs could talk, I suspect Kimmie would tell a different story of how she had trained the human to walk her twice a day.
When it was time to go to the vet, Dad would lower the tailgate of the truck, pat it with his hand and Kimmie would jump effortlessly into the bed of the truck and wait for Dad to tie her in so she couldn’t get too close to the edge. By this time, Dad had become quite attacked to Kimmie and took a great deal of pride in “his” dog! Kimmie also took great pride in her owner and became very defensive of the homeplace. She would run the fence line of the dog pen barking loudly anytime man or beast came near the yard.
Several years passed when Mom and Dad returned to the house from a routine trip to the grocery store. In the dog pen were two Doberman Pinschers with no sign of Kimmie dog. As Mom and Dad got out of their car, the two Doberman Pinschers rushed the fence and tried to bust through. Dad shouted to Mom, “get inside the house as quickly as you can”. Mom shot back, “you need come inside and call your brother Dale to come help”. As Mom dialed the phone, she could see the Dobermans shaking the mangled carcass of their beloved Kimmie. Mom told Dale of the situation and told him to come quickly and bring his gun . . . loaded. When Dale arrived, Dad eased out the front door with his loaded, pump-action .22 rifle in hand. He and Dale met on the carport; “I will take the one on the left; you take the one on the right”. When the Dobermans charged the fence, Dad and Dale opened fire. Soon, three dog corpse lay still in the pen.
Years later, Dad told me that he knew it was wrong, but it felt good to shoot those dogs that had jumped the fence and killed Kimmie. He asked Dale to take the carcasses of the Dobermans and dump them near the waterfall. “What about Kimmie?” Dale asked. “She deserved better than that; I will bury her in the pasture” Dad replied.
During my next trip to Missouri, Dad and I walked to the bridge below the house and back. I fought back tears as I watched Dad walk with lasso in hand, but no Kimmie dog along side. It was one of the saddest things I have ever seen. I became determined to remedy the situation by years end. I searched the internet and eventually found a Keeshond dealer in Poteau Oklahoma. We arrived at a price and agreed that we would meet at the City Park on the Friday evening before Christmas with cash in hand. As we pulled into the City Park around 10:00 pm, Pam asked, “Are you certain this is a good idea? To meet someone we had never met, in the middle of the night, knowing we were carrying a sizable amount of cash, with your wife and two children in the car?” Well, when she put it that way, it really didn’t make a lot of sense. When we pulled into the parking lot, another vehicle slowing pulled in near us. They seemed equally reluctant to get out of their car. I pulled my coat tightly around me as I stepped out of the car into a frigid December night. Much to my relief, a lady with a beautiful Keeshond puppy stepped out of the other car. I introduced myself, paid her the agreed upon price, and loaded the puppy into a kennel in the back of our SUV. Our children were ecstatic and wanted to hold the puppy in their lap, but I simply said there will be time for that when we get to Grandma’s.
The next morning, my brother and family arrived for Christmas and we presented Dad with his new puppy. Because of the cost of the dog, we had agreed we would split the expense three ways. Steve, wanting to make Dad feel extra special, told him, “you must be really loved for us to buy you a dog costing three hundred dollars!”. I couldn’t resist the opening and interjected, “Dad, the dog only cost $200; I told Steve $300 so he and Mom would pay for it and I would still get part of the credit!” The look on my brother’s face was priceless! He wanted to believe I was just teasing, but also wanted reassurances that he hadn’t been bamboozled by his little brother!
So, Dad had a new dog for Christmas and all that remained was naming the puppy. By this time, Dad was already suffering with some memory problems, so we quickly agreed that the new dog would be named Kimmie, since that was what Dad was already calling her. As we left for Texas, Dad was in his chair, Mom was in the kitchen, and Kimmie had taken up residence on the enclosed back porch until the weather warmed up. When spring arrived, Dad and Kimmie began walking to the bridge and back twice per day until Dad’s health no longer allowed these walks.
Looking back, I guess my cousin Joy knew more about the usefulness of things than I had ever imagined.
Bradley Roberts Wyatt 